Romping In The Grass

As a child I was out the door immediately after breakfast and was not seen until my fuel tank needed refilling; then a repeat until another refill at supper time. I think Joseph might be pretty much the same.  At least this photo of him romping in the grass makes me think so. He looks like he is having so much fun. Joseph is a special little boy born to my daughter Pamela. His red hair was quite a shock but we have so many red heads in our family it shouldn’t have been a shock at all. I can count seven without trying to remember all the cousins and two sets grandparents plus all the aunts and uncles directly (blood line) descendent of my red-headed grandma Wehunt. Joseph’s hair is just as red. Of course, his father claims the hair for his side of the family as well but then we’re all Irish (with a little English and Scottish thrown into that heritage line) so go figure that one. The dark hair in the family was introduced by my grandmother Mary Frances Wehunt. Until she was in her seventies her hair was nearly jet black and silky. Grandma was not Irish but French Canadian. I’m sure seeing James and Mary Wehunt standing side by side with her long flowing hair and his carrot top curly bush hair was an odd sighting. Joseph’s hair is not curly however, his is straight and shiny.

Joseph is quite the little man who holds a two sentence telephone conversation and then abruptly says “Goodbye” and he’s off. I don’t think Joseph likes to talk on the telephone. Or he simply has nothing more to say and leaves. He is, after all, in practice for the man he will become and men usually don’t hang on the telephone all that much. At least none of the men I know or have known. Not that I’ve know all that many, truth be told. My family is disproportionately women.  Joseph is my fourth grandson out of nine grandchildren so perhaps some evenness is being restored in Joseph’s generation.

Joseph turned three this year and speaks exceptionally well for his age. Clearly he says “Grandma Wehunt” into my ear when we have those mini telephone conversations. I understand every word he says and frankly I hang on every word he says too. He is such a delightful little boy. Of course he is doing all the other things: counting, drawing, alphabet, reading and so forth. I know of Joseph through emails, pictures and telephone conversations with his mother. I do not like this Sam I Am, I do not like (Joseph being so far away) . . . but he is there and I am here and that is that.


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